


The Mariah Carey Factor

by ciaconnaa



Series: 12 Days of Irondad & Spideyson Christmas [6]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-15 17:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciaconnaa/pseuds/ciaconnaa
Summary: “MJ says you’re messing with me. You have to be messing with me.” A pause. A blink. “....are you messing with me?”“Why would I mess with you?”“Because you're the Grinch.”or;Mr. Stark says he hates Christmas music with the exception of one song. Peter is determined to find that song.





	The Mariah Carey Factor

“Mr. Stark says he doesn’t like Christmas music.”

Ned stares at him like he’s just said the most awful thing in the world. Peter has a half a mind to think that he has, especially since the coffee shop they’re sitting in has fallen eerily quiet. Coincidence? He thinks not. “He doesn’t like _Christmas music?”_

Peter throws a hand in the air, letting it fall to the table with a thump. He almost upsets his hot chocolate. “I know! I can’t believe it, either.”

“Like, just some of it….or…?”

“All of it. All!” Peter squeaks. “I was playing my Christmas playlist in the lab, you know as one does in December,”

“Of course, of course.”

“And Mr. Stark always, _always_ lets me play music but this time he was all like,” He pauses, straightening up in his seat to prepare for his best Tony Stark impression. “Hey, kid, turn that shit off. I hate Christmas music.” Peter drops the act, slumping over, eyes wide with horror once more. “Like, deadass. Just put it out in the universe like some kind of _Grinch.”_

Ned gasps. “No.”

“Yes!”

“So none of it. Like...not even Michael Buble?” Peter shakes his head as Ned starts making his list, checking it twice. “Ariana Grande?” Another shake. And then, one final gasp. Ned brings his hand to his mouth in shock. His eyes are almost _watering._ “....Mariah Carey?”

Peter whines, letting his forehead fall against the tabletop.

From the other side of the table, Michelle finally speaks up. “You guys are losers.”

Peter whips his head back up, pout on full display. “MJ, he can’t hate Christmas music. He just _can’t.”_

She shrugs, looking back down at her book, but not before she reaches over to take a sip of his hot chocolate. “I hate Christmas music.”

“Okay, yeah, but you’re weird,” Ned says. “Like beyond hipster weird. A _genuine_ anomaly. So you don’t count.”

“Fair. But I will say: even I think that Mariah Carey song slaps.”

“See!” Peter exclaims, drawing attention. At this rate, he’s going to get them kicked out. “That! Right there. There’s the thing. Everyone always has an exception. And guess what? Mr. Stark _has_ an exception! He told me he likes just _one_ song.”

“Oh,” Ned looks a little more relaxed. “Then what is it?”

Peter balls both fists on the table and resists the urge to punch through it. “He wouldn’t _say._ ”

“Damn,” Ned lets out a long breath. “That man really is a Grinch, huh?”

“He’s definitely just messing with you,” Michelle points out. This time, when she steals a sip of Peter’s hot chocolate she doesn’t bother pushing the mug back over to him. “He probably doesn’t like any Christmas songs. Or maybe, he really likes them all.” She takes a loud, annoying sip. “You getting worked up is exactly what he wants. Don’t waste your time trying to figure it out.”

“Ohhhhh, I’m gonna waste my time.”

“Yeah, me too. I wanna waste my time, too.”

 _“Losers._ ”

 

* * *

 

But Michelle’s right. Peter definitely wastes his time.

He tries every single one of Ned’s suggestions: They start with pop songs from Kelly Clarkson, Sia, and Coldplay, but they all got turned off. Then he goes old school. He tries Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Elvis. But Nope. Nada. Mr. Stark tells him to turn them off every time.

He even blasts Mariah Carey on three different occasions, just to be sure.

“You’re the Grinch,” Peter finally declares after _Jingle Bell Rock_ gets crossed off the list. “You don’t like any Christmas songs! You are so _lame!”_

Mr. Stark smirks at him from across his kitchen counter, taking a big spoonful of Reese’s Puffs. He offers no rebuttal.

“MJ says you’re messing with me. You have to be messing with me.” A pause. A blink. “....are you messing with me?”

“Why would I mess with you?”

“Because _Grinch.”_

He hums and finishes the last of his cereal. “Sound logic.”

The rest of Peter’s frustration pretty much fades after that. His shoulders slump, his eyelids grow heavy, and he wants nothing more than to take a nap. “I give up,” Peter declares, but he doesn’t specify that it’s just tonight. He’ll get back to work tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day- he’ll play Christmas music every day until next Halloween if it means figuring this out, because he’s just that stubborn.

If Michelle was here, she’d be drawing him because he is in _crisis._

It’s getting late and Peter knows he should be heading home soon. Mr. Stark isn’t going to kick him out, he never does, he’s given him a bedroom of his own and he’s allowed here whenever he wants but he needs to go home to see May so they can watch crappy movies that will reinstall his sanity.

But for now, Peter sets his eyes on the piano in Mr. Stark’s living room. He assumes it’s there just for decoration because he’s never, not once, seen the man play it. But last month he ran into the piano tuner, a sweet blind man by the name of Stan, that said Tony has always had a piano at some point, and makes a point of making sure it’s always in tune.

Peter can play the piano. He can’t play it _well_ , but he can play it. Ben taught him a little on their sad sounding keyboard and then after he joined band in middle school and high school, he would occasionally sneak in some playing time in the music rooms between sousaphone lessons.

Mr. Stark’s piano is nice: black and sleek and grand with the words _Steinway & Sons _in glittering letters on top. Peter feels a twinge of pain as he sits down, hands ghosting over the keys: Ben would have loved to play on a piano this nice.

There’s a lot of memories of Ben that Peter clings to around Christmas; it was his uncle’s favorite holiday. He loved the lights, the snow, the presents, May’s subpar cooking. He even liked Christmas music. By no means was he a fanatic, but he liked it. He always played the same song on the keyboard every Christmas Eve. Peter knows the tune, hears it on TV a million times, but he doesn’t know the words. He doesn’t even know the name of the song.

He presses the keys, fumbling to find the right note, until he gets it.

He plays slowly, agonizingly slow, careful to take his time to find the right key and not play a sour note. Peter only plays with his right hand, a single index finger pushing the keys until he feels Mr. Stark slide next to him on the piano bench.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he mumbles before he gently pulls Peter’s hand away and plays the song for him. “I’ll teach you, don’t worry.”

He’s good. Mr. Stark is _good._ Better than Ben had ever been. His hands don’t hesitate; hell, his eyes don’t even need to stare intensely at the keyboard like Peter’s do. He’s got his eyes closed, playing the whole song by memory.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Oh,” Peter whispers.

Mr. Stark’s eyes open then, glancing Peter’s way. He doesn’t stop playing. “My playing not good enough? I know it’s been awhile, but, come on. I’m pretty good.”

“It’s not that,” Peter is quick to remedy. “It’s just...this was Ben’s favorite Christmas song, too.” His brow furrows as he stares at ’s Mr. Stark's frozen hands. “I never knew the name.”

“Seriously? It’s in the lyrics. Hands here,” he moves Peter’s left hand, “and here,” then the right.

He stumbles, trying to follow Mr. Stark’s instructions. In the end he yields to him withdrawing his hands to sit curled in his lap. “I….can’t understand what they’re saying.”

“Geez, children these days….it’s Auld Lang Syne,” Mr. Stark says, and continues the song. “My mother...” he pauses, fingers dancing along the keys, “...my mother played a lot of Christmas music. But _this_ was the one she sang along to. She….had a nice voice.”

Peter nods, thought he doesn’t completely understand. Mr. Stark’s relationship with his parents, particularly his father, has always been twisted and complicated, something Peter doesn’t even want to touch with a ten foot pole. But his mother...he really doesn’t know anything about his mother. At all.

But ‘tis the season for giving.

“My parents died around Christmas,” he says quietly. His playing never falters. “I was a mess, but everything around me was all decorated and cheerful. Music played all the time and it sounded so happy. It was awful for me. I heard a lot of Christmas bullshit around that time. But department stores and radio stations, they never played Auld Lang Syne. They had the decency to wait until New Years, at least.”

He stops playing.

Peter doesn’t know what to say. At least, nothing of meaning. So he resorts to a page in Tony Stark’s book, all snark and deflection. “So your favorite song is a New Years song and you’re a cheater.”

He doesn’t seem to mind. Mr. Stark smiles. “Guilty as charged.”

“That’s okay,” Peter admits, a little too quickly for his liking. But it’s his mom’s favorite song, it’s _Ben’s_ favorite song...how can he argue? “It’s a good song.”

“That it is.” There’s a lag in the conversation as Mr. Stark picks Peter’s hands back up and puts them in starting position. “Almost as good as that Mariah Carey song.”

Peter’s hands fall against the keys with a _clash._

 _“_ Oh, _I knew it!”_

**Author's Note:**

> this is my least favorite, I'll admit. I wanted a song that peter wouldn't guess, and even though that mariah carey song SLAPS if that was just outright the song, there'd be no fic. 
> 
> don't @ me I know it's not good but I promised you 12 fics and 12 fics I shall write


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